Loveless
by yellowbananas
Summary: You can't always be prepared for what life throws at you. Blaine sure as hell wasn't. What happens when the successful Kurt Hummel spots a homeless Blaine huddled in an alleyway on a cold winter day?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Blaine's thoughts**. _Kurt's thoughts. Memories._**_  
_**

**Triggers: homophobia and death, for now, I guess.**

**Hope you like it. :) **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

**Chapter 1:**

"Get out of the way, hobo!"

Blaine sighed and side-stepped out of the way of the group of teenage boys, only to get shoved against the wall. This was a daily occurrence in the life of Blaine Anderson. Ever since his parents found out about his sexuality, they had been nothing short of downright cruel about it. And so, his life went down-hill ever since.

* * *

_"Pass the salt, honey." His mom said sweetly._

_Blaine could see his fraternal twin out of the corner of his eye sneering in his direction. Ever since they were kids, their parents had taken a preference to Blaine, instead of his twin Blake._

_That, of course, had affected the twins' close and strong relationship negatively. Blaine didn't do it on purpose, he really didn't, but he was just the one with the higher grades, the better manners, the kinder heart, and the cleaner one. Blaine loved Blake to death, and he had tried multiple times to steer the attention from him to his brother, but his parents were adamant. They loved Blake, they just loved him less than Blaine. After they turned 13, Blake started to act completely opposite to his 'goody two-shoes' brother and rebel. He started smoking, dressing only in dark colors, failing in school, lashing out on numerous occasions, and even throwing furniture every once in a while. Blake also blamed Blaine for it all. Blaine tried failing tests on purpose, cursed at his teachers, and basically always tried to get caught doing things he shouldn't be doing just so his parents would stop treating him like the golden boy. But nothing worked… until Blaine came out._

_Blaine passed the salt to his mother with a fake, strained smile. He loved his parents, he just hated the way they chose to favorite him because it made his brother, his best friend, hate him. _

_As for his homosexuality, that was an unexpected realization to Blaine. He never thought about it, really. Yeah, he used to look at the PlayBoy magazines that Blake would sneak into the house when they were like 12, but he never really felt anything._

_He was 16 when he decided to take up a sport at school. Blaine went into the boys' locker room for the first time, and that's when he realized his attraction wasn't to girls. He had struggled with a major boner that his vest failed to hide, which resulted in him running out of the room, and into the bathroom stall._

_He didn't think he was necessarily gay after that, so he decided to make sure by going on the internet to see his body's reaction to gay porn. The night ended with him having a raging boner similar to the one he had at the locket room and an intense need of release. And so, with every passing day at school, he finally came to the conclusion that he wasn't straight._

_Blaine took a deep breath, and prepared himself to tell his parents about his sexuality. He wasn't exactly scared, since he knew his parents loved him to death. So he took his chances, and interrupted his father, who was once again scolding Blake for getting another tattoo, mid-sentence._

_"I have something important to say." He said, slightly nervous._

_"What is it, sweetie?"_

_Blaine's eyes darted around the table, analyzing everyone's faces before revealing his secret. Thankfully, he saw nothing but curious and concerned faces, so he blurted. "I'm gay,"_

_The silence was almost deafening, and it carried on for what seemed to be years, but were probably a few minutes._

_"Please say something," He said shakily, looking anywhere but at his family members._

_Out of nowhere, his father burst into laughter. It was harsh, and seemed strained, but it was laughter nonetheless. Soon after, his mother followed suit. Blaine looked at his brother, who seemed uneasy and uncomfortable, and frowned._

_"O-Oh, h-honey, we almost believed y-you for a moment the-re!" His mother ground out in between fits of laughter._

_**Almost believed me? Do they think this is a joke?**_

_"I never said I was joking." He said seriously._

_"Don't be silly, Blaine. You're not gay." Said his father, who finally cooled down from his high._

_"I am! Why would you find this funny? I found out I was gay the day after I turned 16!"_

_His parents' faces went from smiley to furious in about a fraction of a second, so Blaine hadn't had time to prepare for the storm after the calm. His father suddenly got up and threw the plate across the room. "You're not gay!" He practically yelled, anger and slight desperation in his voice._

_Both Blaine and Blake seemed shocked by the outburst, since they had never seen his father this angry. Not even when Blake got suspended from school for smoking in class. His mother, on the other hand, was silently fuming. Her knuckles were white from gripping the fork too hard, and it looked like she was clenching her teeth. Blaine shrunk in his seat from the glare of his father._

_Nothing on earth could have prepared Blaine for what came next._

_"Get out."_

_"W-What-"_

_"You have 30 minutes to take whatever you can. After that, I want you to leave and never come back." His father spat, venom dripping from his voice._

_Blaine couldn't believe what he was hearing. His ears were ringing and he felt like he could practically hear his world falling apart. Literally. _

_He looked helplessly to Blake, silently begging him for any type of help. Blake's face was a mixture of pain, disgust –at his twin's confession, or at what their father was saying, Blaine didn't know- and helplessness. For some reason, the lack of defense and reaction hurt him even more than his father's words probably ever would._

_His twin was rejecting him when he was practically getting disowned._

_His father's furious, venom filled voice shook him from his thoughts and brought him back to the cruel reality that was now his life. "I said 30 minutes!"_

_He looked around one more time, desperate for Ashton Kutcher to pop out of nowhere and tell him he was being Punk'd, but all he found were the faces of the people whom he thought loved him. He got up slowly, causing the chair to scrape the ground with a harsh noise. He made his way to and up the stairs at a sluggish pace, thinking if he stayed just a little bit longer, his parents would wake up and realize they were kicking their son out and tell him they were joking, tell him that they loved him like they did everyday. As soon as he entered his bedoom, he could feel his chest constricting. Tears were burning in his eyes, threatening to fall. His vision was so blurred from the tears, he could barely see in front of him._

_A few minutes later found Blaine sobbing loudly, shoving whatever was close to him into the large suitcase he had retrieved from his closet. He balled his clothes that were folded neatly, not caring about the welfare of any of them. He threw in most of the shoes that were in his closet, and grabbed all of the chargers for his electronic devices, and shoved those in, too._

_Blaine zipped the suitcase closed and grabbed his backpack, flipping it over, spilling his school-books onto the floor haphazardly. He grabbed his laptop, iPad, iPod, phone, and wallet. He ran to his closet once again to open one of the many safes his parents put in the bedrooms for each person to hide his/her personal belongings, including the envelopes filled with a bit of the large amount of fortune the family had, to retrieve what was inside. It took Blaine two tries before he finally managed to put in the right code. He snatched the envelope he kept all his savings in with shaky hands, and shoved it harshly into his bag. Lastly, he opened the drawer of his desk and took out the photo album he had put in there, along with whatever framed-picture that would fit into his over-loaded bag._

_He zipped the bag closed, grabbed the suitcase, took one last look at the room, and reluctantly dragged his bags down the long hallway of his soon-to-be ex-large house. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he rounded the corner to where his family were waiting impatiently. Blaine looked at the faces of his parents, the people who practically worshipped him one last time, looking for any sign of remorse or sadness, but found nothing. It was like his confession had erased every past emotion and had replaced them with only hatred and disgust._

_Blake, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling, as if making a decision. He suddenly got up, causing his chair to fall. He walked towards Blaine, and turned to look at his parents. "You can't kick him out." He said firmly._

_Blaine stared at him incredulously. **Doesn't he hate me?  
**_

_His father laughed harshly. "I already did, and he's leaving. So make a choice, Blake, stay with your normal parents, or your disgusting, homosexual brother."_

_Blaine willed himself not to burst into another wave of tears. Although, even if he wanted to go through another wave of body-convulsing tears, he didn't think he had any tears left in him to shed._

_Just when Blake was about to say something, Blaine interrupted him, stepping closer to him._

_"I'll go with hi-"_

_"Don't." Blaine whispered brokenly._

_Blake turned to him sharply. "What do you mean, don't? Our parents just kicked you out of the house for being gay!"_

_Blaine put a shaky hand on Blake's shoulder and continued shakily. "What's done is done. They don't want me here, so I'm leaving."_

_"But I want you here!" Blake practically yelled, shock written all over his face from Blaine's response. At Blaine's slightly doubtful look, Blake's face expression turned to guilty. "I know I never acted like I wanted you here, that I always blamed you for everything, and that I called you an attention-whore, but you're my brother, Blaine. Not only my brother, you're my twin." At this point, both boys were crying, hugging each other like their lives depended on it. "I'm so sorry I pushed you away, Blaine. I'm sorry I treated you that way all this time. I'm sorry I didn't act like the brother you deserve. I'm so sorry." Blake said desperately, his body convulsing with sobs while he clutched at Blaine tightly._

_A few seconds later, his father's voice interrupted the display of affection with his cruel words. "I told you to leave, Blaine. Now get out. I never want to see your face again. You're no longer our son."_

_Blaine pulled away from the hug and shakily picked up his bags, ignoring his brother's helpless pleas, and made his way out the door, and out of his family's life._

* * *

Blaine never thought he'd end up homeless. What with how rich his family was, and how much his parents liked to spoil him with allowances and gifts.

But about a day after Blaine had situated himself in some cheap hotel so he could figure out his next move after being kicked out, something that burned a whole through him happened.

* * *

_Blaine was called to the hospital at approximately 4 AM. When he arrived, he was informed that his brother was in a terrible car accident, and was currently in intensive care. The police officers who found Blake handed Blaine the letter they had found in the car. Blaine didn't know how to react. He didn't know whether he should cry, scream, faint, or simply stand there frozen. He took the letter with hands that were shaking violently, his eyes still wide, and opened the folded piece of paper._

_" Dear Blaine,_

_I don't even know why I'm writing this letter when I'm about to drive to where you are. Guess I feel like being a little old-fashioned, and partly because I need something to do with my hands other than beat the shit out of mom and dad. When I told them I was leaving so that I could come with you, mom literally got up and slapped me in the face. I didn't know if I wanted to yell at her or laugh. Anyway, I'm in my soon-to-be ex-bedroom right, writing this letter that's completely and utterly pointless since I'm going to tell you all of this in person. But maybe you could keep this letter as a memory? Dunno. Anyway, I'm going to be a little cheesy now and apologize for being a shitty excuse of a brother and not defending you earlier or telling you how important you actually are in my life._

_I know this is a dumb excuse for the way I acted, but I was jealous. I was jealous of you for being popular, for getting high grades even though you put less effort in school than I ever did. Jealous of how all the girls would hit on you (Guess that's pretty pointless now, huh? ;)). And jealous of how mom and dad used to like you better. I'm sorry for still treating you like shit even when you tried to make mom and dad love you less. Sorry doesn't even cover how bad and regretful I feel for ignoring you whenever you needed to talk. About how despicable I was for not knowing about what was truly going on in your life. For not being there for you. But I promise you, Blaine, that I'll always be here for you. I promise I'll be the brother I should have always been. You're my twin, buddy, I can't just leave you. I love you. (Totally not in an incest-ish way)_

_So, did you puke from all the sappiness?_

_No but really, I mean everything I'm writing. So I hope you enjoyed this totally pointless letter, but right now I gotta pack my shit and come to you!_

_Later, bro!_

_-The cooler and hotter twin. "_

_Blaine's tears were staining the paper, almost making the words un-readable. He hadn't realized he had collapsed onto the floor and started clutching the paper to his chest tightly, crying in earnest, until a few nurses came to comfort him. He begged the nurses and doctors to let him into the room his brother was in, but they kept denying him access, claiming Blake's condition was severely critical._

_He was sitting on one of the chairs in the waiting room, praying for the first time in his life to whatever deity was out there to save his brother, to save his other half, when a defeated looking doctor came up to him._

_As soon as Blaine saw the doctor's expression, he went into a fit of denial, crying out 'He's not dead. He's not dead. No, no, I won't believe it. He's not dead. He's alive, right doctor? He's alive! He's not dead!' hysterically, attracting the attention of a few of the people around him._

_From that moment on, he had lost absolutely every single thing that had ever mattered to him. He had lost his other half._

_About a week later, Blaine bought a ticket to New York with whatever money he had left, and left Ohio forever._

* * *

About 4 years later, he had practically no money, almost no food, very little clothes, a cheap toothbrush with cheap toothpaste, barely any personal belongings except for the worn-out letter from his brother, and the photo album he had snatched out of the drawer form his desk in his old home.

Blaine sunk down lower onto the wall of the alleyway he was in, pulled the beat-out jacket that was a little too small for him closer to his chest, and shut his eyes slowly.

**Patience.**

* * *

Kurt was happy. He had everything he had ever wanted, and he couldn't ask for more.

He was the creator of one of the new, increasingly popular magazines. He was also the designer of one of the rising brands. He had a model boyfriend, a lot of friends, a gorgeous appartment and car, and a loving family.

Sure, he had had raging suspicions that he would end up big in New York back when he was in Lima, but things have gone even better than he had expected.

He felt like all the bullying and the patience he had endured in school finally paid off.

As soon as he had graduated from NYU at the age of 22, he had gone to an interview for a job at Vogue, and got the job. A publisher had spotted him at one of the meetings and Kurt had told him his ideas, showing off his potential, and getting a deal. As for his brand, he had been sitting at his work desk while he was at Vogue, and the editor and chief had passed him and caught a glimpse of the designs he was drawing, and his career had progressed after she showed some of his designs to a few tailors who agreed to work for him and help him start his own line. He knew he just got lucky, because becoming what he was at the age of 23 was basically impossible. Nonetheless, he was grateful.

"Yeah, just check my schedule and squeeze her in whenever I have no other appointments." Said Kurt to his secretary.

He hung up shortly after just as he was rounding the corner, and stopped short when he spotted the figure sitting against the wall in the alleyway between the buildings.

Regardless of the dirty and disheveled state the man was in, his beauty was still obvious. The man had his eyes closed and his head tilted back onto the wall, so Kurt took the liberty of looking at his face. His features were gorgeous. His long, black curly hair was messily covering his forehead and ears, his eyebrows unusually triangle-shaped, and his skin was slightly tanned, aside from all the dirt that was all over it. His lips were plump and slightly blue from the cold weather, and his thick long eyelashes were casting a shadow on his nicely-structured cheekbones. His frame was small and shaking, unconsciously pulling the filthy jacket he was wearing closer. Kurt hadn't realized he had been staring at the anonymous man for so long until the curly haired stranger opened his eyes and looked straight into Kurt's eyes. He felt his breath hitched when his eyes locked on his. Apparently, Kurt had subconsciously moved closer to the man to take a better look, so the intenseness of his gorgeous hazel eyes took him aback, that he actually stumbled a bit to regain his balance.

He couldn't help but feel a sharp pang in his heart at the pain he could see in stranger's eyes. He could practically feel the sadness radiating off him.

_Snap out of it. You have a meeting in like 20 minutes. And you probably look like a creep just standing here!_

Kurt cleared his throat, pulled out a 100 dollar bill and slowly deposited it next to the man's hunched form, not looking into the eyes that were burning into him.

Without seeing the stranger's reaction, Kurt quickly walked away to his appointment, feeling an odd flutter he hadn't felt before in his chest.

**AN: I know there are a few questions, but they'll be answered later! I hope you liked it! Please tell me if I should continue it or nott. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I realized that in the other chapter, I forgot to underline the memory parts. I'm sorry if that confused you into thinking that it was Kurt's thoughts, but no. Kurt didn't appear anywhere in the story until the end of that chapter. I'm sorry for the mistake! But just imagine the parts where Blaine was talking about the whole getting kicked out thing being underlined. **

**Triggers: talk about suicide, mild violence.**

**Chapter 2:**

Blaine's eyes followed the stranger as he walked away, then back at the money he had put next to Blaine. He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking he might be seeing things. **Is that really a 100 dollar bill, or am I dreaming?** He hadn't even noticed the stranger putting down the money, because he was too entranced by his beauty. The stranger had beautiful, perfectly coifed chestnut-colored hair, eyes that you could just drown in, flawless porcelain skin, and beautiful bone structure. Blaine was surprised he hadn't melted then and there. When his eyes were locked with the stranger's, Blaine thought he was going to faint. The man was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Even the way he was dressed complimented his lithe, but slightly muscular body.

Blaine blinked a few times and slowly picked the money off the floor.** He gave me 100 dollars. That's more money than I've had in weeks.**

Blaine's eyes almost blurred with tears. He could finally buy something decent to eat, instead of the really cheap canned crap he would buy at the store. He could also buy a new jacket that would actually keep him warm, unlike the one he was currently freezing in.

He slowly, shakily got off the floor to go do some errands he's been desperate to do ages ago, with the money the gorgeous stranger had given him.

The whole walk there, Blaine's chest was fluttering oddly and his stomach was filled with butterflies. It was an unfamiliar feeling, yet not entirely unwelcome.

* * *

"I'll see you soon, hun." Kurt said to his secretary once he finished his meeting. It had been about an hour since it started, and he could honestly say that that was one of the most boring meetings he's ever been in.

The editor from the rival magazine had requested to collaborate with Kurt's, claiming it would become a bigger and better magazine, but Kurt refused. The editor was a downright bitch, and Kurt couldn't even tolerate her for two seconds, let alone collaborating with her. During the entire meeting, Kurt couldn't stop thinking about that homeless man. He couldn't stop thinking about the gorgeous, breathtaking eyes, and the Greek-god face.

Just as he exited the building, Kurt felt the sudden urge to at least check on the stranger. _I just want to see if he's alright. What's the harm in that?_

* * *

After shopping for a few necessities, and finally satisfying his starving stomach, Blaine settled back against the wall of his usual spot on the alleyway, and began to think.

**Who knew Blaine Anderson, son of James Anderson, one of the best lawyers in Ohio, would end up here? Funny how one minute you could be happy, and in the next second, your world can come crashing down.**

Blaine usually wasn't one to give up on happiness, but after everything that's happened in his life, he just couldn't see how he could be happy again. He knew he shouldn't be bitter about his life, but sometimes he couldn't help it. How was he supposed to not be bitter when finding something to eat everyday was practically a battle? **Well, today wasn't entirely a battle since that gorgeous man gave you 100 fucking dollars.** Blaine blushed at the memory of the man's face, his heart fluttering. **But really, when you don't even know that you'll find anything to eat the next day, when you're constantly being harassed and told to just go kill yourself, because 'people like you' shouldn't litter the streets, it was hard to stay happy. Maybe I really should just kill myself and stop being such a burden to the world.**

Every night before Blaine would cuddle up against whatever cloth he had, he would take out the letter his brother had written, and read it all over again. No matter how many times he read it, he always ended up crying himself to sleep. His heart ached for his twin, whether or not their relationship was a little tight before the whole getting kicked out fiasco, or not. He ached for his brother more than he ached for both of his parents combined. In fact, he didn't really ache for his parents. Sure, after he was kicked out, he cried for hours, missing the warmth in his mother's eyes that used to be directed at him, but remembering the disgust and hate that replaced it after he said he was gay.

He ached for love.

Whether if it was from a potential lover, a family member, or a friend, he ached for love.

Just as he was about the close his eyes to take a little nap, he heard loud, harsh laughter. His eyes snapped open, for some reason expecting his father, but what greeted him was a group of about four teenage boys. They were approaching him fast, and one of them was holding a baseball bat. Blaine began to panic. **This can't be good**.

"Hey there, _faggot_. Who gave you the permission to dirty the streets with your _filth_?" One of them said harshly, making the rest of the group laugh out loud.

"Yeah, dirt-bag. Your existence is useless. All of you hobos should just go jump off a cliff and die." The one with the bat said, laughing.

"We should get rid of him." The redhead suggested, an evil glint in his eyes.

Blaine ignored them and pretended to rummage through his plastic bag, but his heart was plummeting against his chest, and his hands were getting clammy. He could see the group of boys turning to each other to discuss something out of the corner of his eye, seemingly who would be the one to do the job, and Blaine could see the bat being exchanged from the black haired boy to the red head.

Blaine's panic clouded his mind, and he got up quickly to get away, but was pulled back harshly by one of the boys by his collar. He fell back onto the rough concrete, and Blaine could see the boy raise the bat.

**Let him kill you. You'll finally stop being such a burden to everyone. **His inner voice told him. **Dying is easier that living. Just let him kill you.**

He shut his eyes slowly, smiling slightly as the last memory in his head was an image of Blaine and his brother at the lake when they were children, and then nothing.

* * *

Kurt was just rounding the corner, his body giddy at the thought of seeing the beautiful boy again, when he stopped dead in his tracks, his stomach falling hard. The stranger was lying on the floor motionless, a pool of blood beneath him, while teenage boys kicked him and hit him with what seemed to be a baseball bat.

"What the fuck are you doing? _Stop_!" Kurt yelled, his voice filled with shock, panic, and rage. He rarely cursed, but his mouth and legs were moving on their own accord, and before he knew it, he was speed-walking in the direction of the body.

The teenage boys' heads snapped up. They quickly backed away, and began to run in the opposite direction, afraid of being caught. Kurt ran to the body on the floor, his heart in his throat. "Please be okay, please be okay." He whispered shakily while shaking the man's small frame, trying to wake him. Feeling useless, Kurt took out his phone and called an ambulance.

About an hour later, Kurt was at the hospital listening to what the doctor was saying, both of them standing next to the bed where the homeless man lay.

"Is he okay?" Kurt asked nervously.

"He will be with a lot of rest and care. Thankfully, the blow to the head he received caused only a mild concussion, which means he'll be out for a while. As for the blood you saw, that was from body injuries, which can be healed. Although, if you hadn't gotten there any sooner, he probably would have gotten another hit to the head and it could have cracked his skull and killed him. Now, he has a couple of broken ribs, severe bruising, and a few cuts here and there, but no internal bleeding. It'll take a few weeks for him to fully heal."

Kurt nodded absentmindedly, his brain on overdrive. _If I hadn't gone to the meeting, if I just stayed there or something, this wouldn't have happened. If I had at least gotten there sooner, he wouldn't be here, it's my fau-_

"What did you say his name was?" The doctor asked, cutting Kurt's self-accusatory train of thoughts.

"I-I didn't. He's, um… He's actually a homeless man, I think. I was just walking by when I saw the boys hitting him." Kurt said, his voice a little above a whisper and his head lowered. When the stranger hadn't woken up when he tried shaking him, he panicked. For some reason, the thought of this man getting hurt made his heart clench.

" I see… Well, since we don't know his name, we can't contact his family, if he even has one, and we can't keep him in the hospital. He doesn't have a medical card, and since you said he's homeless, I'm pretty sure getting one is something he can't afford to do, and he can't just be left alone on the streets."

Kurt's eyes were a little watery as they darted from the doctor to the curly haired boy on the bed. His mouth speaking before his brain approved of what he said. "Yes, I'll take him in, and I'll cover the medical bill."

The doctor nodded, and called for a nurse to take Kurt's credit card information.

"Now, the bandages need to be changed every 4 to 5 hours. If he gets a headache, then give him a pill of this." The doctor said, handing Kurt the bottle of pills. "Also, you need to make sure he doesn't move too much. He needs to heal, and he can't do that by moving around. He'll have to be brought in in a couple of weeks to check on the healing of his ribs, but other than that, he should be fine."

Kurt nodded silently and looked back at the body. After the doctor bid his farewell to go attend to another patient, Kurt slowly walked up to the bed and stared at the lifeless body that lay on it. He gently touched the man's swollen cheek, caressing it as he took in the bruises and the bandages. He pulled his hand back and requested for someone to help him carry the stranger to the car.

_It was practically your fault, anyway. Now it's your responsibility to make sure he's okay._

* * *

**Ow**.

Blaine opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it. His head was absolutely pounding. He groaned and shut his eyes quickly. He brought a hand to his head, thinking that if he pressed a little, the headache would go away.

He frowned, wincing at the pain that caused, when he felt how swollen his face was. He brought his other hand to his head, feeling around until he felt some king of cloth. He opened his eyes once again, slower this time, and he realized that he wasn't on the streets, that he was actually on something soft. **Wait, what happened? **He looked down and noticed that he was on a couch. Blaine panicked and looked around. **Where am I?**

Suddenly, the events from earlier came crashing down. He remembered the boys, the bat, the kicking, the laughing, and more importantly, the fact that he was going to die. That he _wanted_ to die. **Why the fuck am I still alive?**

Blaine felt anger flare up inside him. He was finally going to die, finally going to stop being such a burden to the world, but no. Of course, life just kept dragging him back by the hair. Reality kept punching him in the got at every chance it got. Literally.

He tried to get up, when he felt a very sharp pain in his ribs, and collapsed back onto the couch, groaning as he clutched at his chest.

"You're not supposed to get up," A voice said softly.

Blaine's head whipped around, only to come face to face with the gorgeous, flawless man he had seen before.

When Blaine said nothing, the beautiful man smiled slightly and continued. "I was passing by when those teenage boys were beating you up. You were already unconscious when I got there, so I took you to the hospital." The stranger stood up and walked closer to him, raising his hand to push Blaine onto the couch, when it was slapped away.

Blaine demanded angrily, "Why did you help me? I could have been dead by now! But no, you had to go over there and act like the hero and bring me back to this shit world!"

The stranger stumbled back, as if Blaine had slapped him, the hurt, shock, and confusion evident on his face. "W-What-"

Suddenly, the anger Blaine was feeling was replaced by a pain in his heart so hard that his entire body started trembling, and his voice was barely a whisper. "W-Why didn't you just let m-me die?" He curled in on himself, his eyes pooling with tears. "I just want to die."

* * *

Kurt definitely hadn't expected the man to react that way. When he exploded on him, Kurt almost fell back onto the coffee table. The anger in his voice was like a punch in the gut. Just when Kurt was about to interject once again, the anger disappeared from the man's face, and hurt suddenly and quickly replaced it. The hurt Kurt could see in his eyes were like a blow to the heart.

"W-Why didn't you just let m-me die?" The stranger whispered, his entire body trembling. "I just want to die."

Kurt couldn't move for a minute, couldn't breathe. He felt his own tears pooling in his eyes as he heard the quiet sobs coming from the broken man -no, boy- in front of him._ He wanted to die?_

Kurt stumbled to the boy, mindful of the bruises, and pulled him against him. He half expected the stranger to pull away, but he simply melted against Kurt, his sobs growing even louder, wracking his entire frame. The sudden need to protect this boy, to help him, was so overwhelming that Kurt tightened his grasp. His heart was aching, and his tears were dripping onto the mop of curly hair that was tucked into his neck.

Kurt closed his eyes. "You're safe. I promise."


End file.
